The Aftermath
by TheSage96
Summary: It's five years after the war in Panem, and Katniss isn't sure what to make of her life. On one hand, she cares for Peeta, but on the other, something menacing seems to be happening with him. So, when opportunity arises to alter her life, Katniss is faced with a difficult choice, one that she must make for herself this time.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note****: Hello, all, and thank you for taking the time to view this story. I know that it's far from any masterpiece, so I'll ask that you bear with me. It's been a long time since I've written fanfiction of any sort, and this is a rewrite of a piece that I fiddled with two or three years ago. I suppose that I should go ahead and warn you that I'm a pretty strong Team Gale person, and I feel that he got the raw end of the stick at the end of Mockingjay. That's not to say that I dislike Peeta, I just feel as though Gale's character deserved some closure, but I digress. Anyway, thanks again for looking this over, and I hope that you will all enjoy it. **

My eyes fly open as the pounding of rain and thunder besieges the walls of my home in District Twelve. I glance outside one window and see that the sky is still dark, although whether it is due to the storm or early hours, I cannot tell. I roll over and snuggle back down under the blanket, the stocky form of my husband, Peeta Mellark, beside me. It has been a long time since he has looked this peaceful while he is sleeping.

Since President Snow has been overthrown, our lives have been relatively free from turmoil. An exception is the few years of Capitol Games that have transpired since our government changed hands. Another is the renewed onslaught of Peeta's nightmares. Since the war, his night terrors and rages, the result of the Capitol's technology years ago, have only gotten worse. There are still times where I am afraid, although I need only shake him awake before he realizes that I am not his enemy; I am his wife. It is so very rarely that I see him look so peaceful in slumber these days, his face unlined, as though all of his worries and fears are forgotten. No fiends of technological creation plague him tonight. Perhaps it is safe to leave now, without fear that he will be angry if he awakes to find me gone. It is a dangerous thing to get Peeta angry, and it happens only rarely, but it is still a constant worry of mine. But perhaps this morning, he will not be so troubled by my absence. After all, we do need the meat.

My decision made, I swing my legs out from under the covers and ease my way to my feet, careful not to shift the mattress underneath him. Still trying to remain silent, I pull on my leather-soled boots, grab my bow, and head out the door. I don't mind the drizzle, really, and once I squeeze through the remnants of a once-electrified fence and am under the treetops, I can scarcely feel it at all. I look up at the green canopy shielding me from the icy torrent, and I sigh. Rarely do I ever get to come into the woods anymore. Usually, there is no need for it, and Peeta doesn't like it. Early in our marriage, he would insist on coming out with me, but he has always been so clumsy in comparison to… no; I won't let myself think of him. It has been five years since the war, but the sting of _his_ desertion still stings. Coming into the woods eases it some, I can almost feel as if he will appear around the next tree, waiting for me, and I can pretend like he never left. I know it is cruel and selfish of me to wish that he had stayed with us in District Twelve. I know that he felt that he saved me the choice, but the pain of losing him forever was almost worse. But of course, it does no good to dwell on that now, and I continue to pace through the woods, crouching at the fresh track of a deer's hoof in the mud.

I look ahead, squinting my eyes against the wind and scattered raindrops, searching out a pattern in the deer's walking. Spotting a scattered line in the mud, I begin to track it, pulling up the collar of my old jacket to shield my face against the wind. It will be a wonder if I actually catch anything out here, considering how dark it is, but I still go on. It is not until the sun begins to beckon through the trees that I realize what day it is.

It must seem ridiculous, but I still remain sentimental about Sundays. They're still our day, no matter how many years pass. Despite Peeta's nervousness about me going into the woods, I still try to come out every Sunday. It just feels wrong not to. I know it's silly and that he'll never be there waiting for me, but I feel like I am violating something sacred by not. A rustling of undergrowth startles me, and I swing around, half expecting to see Gale's lean form emerge from behind a tree, but it is just the wind again. A flicker of brown catches my eye, though, and I turn to see the deer I have been tracking munching on leaves. Stealthily, I grab my bow and remove an arrow from my quiver. Setting the arrow on the string, I pulled back my bow, feeling the familiar tension of the wood. I looked down the length of the arrow, following the familiar lines as I locked onto the innocent-looking target. I released the arrow, relishing the familiar feeling of it flying through my fingers and hitting the target. It wasn't that I enjoyed killing animals, but we needed to eat, and the bow made me feel like I had worth, like I had something to contribute. As the beast falls, I go to it, pulling out my arrow, and setting about figuring out how to transport it. I think again about the person who would've been here to help, but who I would never see again. Shaking my head to clear my head, I pick up its hind legs, grateful that it's small and not full-grown yet, and begin to drag it across the forest floor. A new rustling of the leaves and undergrowth has me cautious, but when I glance around, I cannot see anything but the trees. The rain is still stinging, but it is not as heavy as before, although I know that getting the doe back up to the house will be a chore. I hear another sound of rustling behind me, and this time, I drop my catch, feeling wariness creep up on me. That's one effect that is left over from my time in the arena of the Hunger Games. I'm always paranoid, always waiting for a life-snatching blow to claim my existence. The carcass flop to the ground as I string my bow and hold it up, knowing that I'm overreacting; it's probably just some squirrel or something. Still, I didn't let down my guard as the rustling drew closer and closer. I dodged around a tree to shield most of my body from whatever was coming just in case, feeling both foolish and frightened in equal measure. When it was Peeta's stocky form that emerged from the shadows, though, I lowered my bow, feeling more at ease, with only a slight sense of lingering anxiety.

"Oh, Peeta, it's only you. What are you doing out here?" I call to him, trying to contain my anxiety and color my voice with relief. I stepped out from behind the tree to see him examining the deer with something of disgust, revulsion clearly etched into his face. With growing dread, I noticed the signs of his hijacking coming out. Usually, I kept him away from the messy part of meat, because he began to see me as cruel whenever this happened. He begins to identify with the deer and see me as a ruthless murderer; I can see it in his normally kind blue eyes when he looks up at me. I repress a shudder that comes with a wave of icy dread.

"You killed this?" His voice is low and menacing. I close my eyes and tell myself not to be afraid. This is Peeta, and he hasn't had a relapse in a long time. He won't hurt me.

"We need the meat. Why don't you go back into the house, Peeta. Why did you come out here?" I ask, trying to stay as positive as possible. Over the years, I've found that ignoring the relapse keeps him from getting frustrated with himself.

"No, the better question is why you're out here being a murderer." There is no rational though in his angry blue eyes as he looks up at me now. Now, my grip on my fear begins to slip away as he steps over the corpse and towards me with outstretched hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: **Hello, again! I was elated to see how many views this got, especially as this is my first published story on Fanfiction. I would love to know, however, how I can make this better, so if you see something that you feel needs changing or fixing, review it or send me a private message; I'm very open to suggestions! In addition, I would like to thank KDior for her generous review and apologize to all Peeta fans; I've always been a die-hard "Team Gale" member. I'd also like to say that this chapter isn't as well-written as the first. They'll get better once I get further into the story, but until then, PLEASE bear with me. Anyway, I suppose that's enough of my ramblings; if you would have wanted to hear from me, you wouldn't be looking at this; you'd be at my biography. So, without further ado, here's chapter two!**

"Peeta, wait. You need to stop and think for a moment." I force my voice to remain calm, despite the staccato pounding of my heart. I can feel it as my pulse gains speed. His blue eyes narrow as he takes another menacing step forward, and I feel a prickle of panic threaten to grip me as I stand my ground. The numerous occasions that his hijackings have taken over have taught me that staying strong and calm is the best policy in this sort of situation. I know that he can't help it, that he has no control, so that makes it easier. I know that deep down, my dandelion is still there waiting for me. The trick is getting him to resurface. And right now, there is not a trace of my gentle husband on his snarling, angry face.

"Stop and think? Katniss, I know what you are. There's nothing left to consider." Peeta spits at me with a humorless laugh. I shudder involuntarily at the sound, trying to remind myself that this isn't Peeta, that this is just the hijacked monster the Capitol made him. I take a deep breath to fortify myself.

"Peeta, that's not me. Try to remember. This isn't you talking right now; this is how the Capitol wanted you to think of me." My voice cracks towards the end, despite my efforts to keep it steady, and I want to kick myself.

"The Capitol as it was is gone, Katniss, don't you remember? President Snow and his cronies are gone." Peeta sneered at the former president's name, and I winced at how harsh the expression was on his normally soft face.

"I know that, Peeta, and President Paylor would never have you do something like this. But if you'll just sit down and listen for a little while, then—" Sometimes talking through the madness helped, if he was rational enough.

"Why would I sit down with you? So I can become just like all of the others you've killed? Cato, Finnick, my parents, Rue, and you even tried for me before. Why would I give you that option again, Katniss? No, the smart thing would be to kill you now, while I have the chance." He suddenly sprints towards me and in a few bounds is almost near me. I had underestimated how he had closed the distance between us. In a flash, I have my bow set and drawn, pointed exactly at his chest.

"Peeta, I don't want to hurt you. Just listen to me." Even to my own ears, I sound panicky. He skids to a stop and looks up at me with a black humor in his eyes. It scares me more than anything we've faced in the past years.

"Why? You'll just kill me anyway. At least now I'll have a fighting chance." He flings himself towards me again, and in my surprise, I release an arrow. My breath catches in my throat as I watch it fly, but thankfully, it misses him by inches. He watches it and looks back at me with fury in his eyes, as well as the appearance of someone whose suspicions have just been confirmed. I realize that there will be no reasoning with him now, so I do the only thing I can think of; I turn and run.

The lower branches of the trees whip at my face and tear at my braid as I sprint through the forest, dodging and weaving between trees as the russet colors blurred past me. The now-familiar feeling of adrenalin courses through me, forcing my legs to propel me still faster. One of my feet slip on the mingled leaves and pine needles below me, but I force myself to keep going, wrenching my body upright when I stumble. My thoughts are all a jumble, but somehow, my brain leads me back to the fence. I plunge through the hole in the wiring and continue my race for home, feeling relieved when I see the looming outline of our house rising in the distance. I turn my head slightly to see how close Peeta is, and I let out a small sigh of relief when I see that he has not yet reached the fence. I will have time to grab some of my things before I head out to stay elsewhere in town, but not much.

I slam into the door with my shoulder to knock it open, carefully yanking the bow out of harm's way as I go. Ripping the bow and arrows off of my shoulder, I toss them hastily onto the table in the center of my home with Peeta, rushing to our bedroom to pack. I grab a moderately-sized bag and begin stuffing my clothes into it as quickly as possible. Then, I fasten the bag shut, swing it over my shoulder, and rush into the kitchen to grab some food, leaving my bow on the table to one side as I stuff bread, a container of water, and a few spare vegetables into the bag before refastening it again. I am not sure where I will go this time, but perhaps I can stay with Haymitch, although the idea isn't appealing. Five years after the war, and Haymitch still drinks like an Irishman. I think of the old Hawthorne house, but I quickly disregard it. That would bring back too many memories. I stand and dust off my pants, swinging the bag over my arm and turning to the entrance to the door. I inhale sharply with a combination of fear and shock as I come face to face with my husband, Peeta Mellark.

"You tried to shoot me." He says with something of wonder mixing with the anger in his features. I back towards the table to where my bow is laying, and he advances, looking every bit capable of horrific revenge for his imagined slights.

"Peeta, that was an accident. I'm going to go away for a little while until you feel that we can talk this out." I say, pulling the bag higher onto my shoulder. Peeta simply laughs that humorless laugh again before shaking his head.

"Katniss, I can't take any chances with you. It doesn't matter where you go. I can't trust that you won't try to kill me again. So no matter where you run and hide, I'll find you, and I'll terminate you before you can get to me." He encroaches further, pulling a candle from another table into his hand. I eye the flickering flame warily, not sure that he's aware of his action before he lifts it and examines the dripping wax.

"Peeta, put the candle down and let me by." I say forcefully, absolutely petrified now. He looks back at me and brandishes the candle in my direction.

"Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire." Eyes wide with terror, I grab my bow and nock an arrow, swiftly pulling it back and firing it at his hand. With a howl, Peeta drops the candle and I race past him, shoving him roughly aside as I push faster and faster. With a slight glance backwards, I see Peeta's form against the growing flames before he barrels towards the door. I race back towards the fence with all I have, feeling a pressure on my chest that left me breathless. I dive through the fence, ripping my jacket free when it snags on a piece of barbed wire, and continue running, hoping and praying that he won't follow me into the woods. And all the while everything that I have built with him for the last five years burns to the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**** Wow! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story; I really appreciate it! Constructive criticism is something that I thrive on; all it can do is help me improve, so please let me know what you think! And I do apologize that this chapter has taken a little bit longer than the others; school's been keeping me insanely busy, as has my soccer team. I'll definitely try to update within a smallish window, though… Mostly because I love writing. Anyway, here's chapter three! :D**

I can hear Peeta thundering through the leaves as he hits the forest, and a newfound wave of fear washes over me. He hasn't been this bad, not in a long time, and now I have no doubt that he will kill me if he finds me. The bag smacks repeatedly against me side as I run, and I suppress the urge to fling it far into the trees; I'll need these things later. I keep running, the russet colors of the forest swirling around me as my muscles tense and flex with the impact on the earth. I do not really know in which direction I am traveling, just that I need to get far, far away from District Twelve.

Eventually, the whining protest of the muscles in my thighs forces me to stop running after I crest the top of a massive hill. Looking up, I can see that the sun has risen halfway to its peak. How is it not noon yet? It feels as if I have been traveling for hours. I look around at the trees, and nothing is recognizable. Over the years, I have scoured the area around our district for miles around with _him_, with Gale, so I know that I must be far, far from home now. The thought worries me a little, but I am elated at the same time. This will be a chance for me to explore more of Panem, and it will be a chance for me to be free from worry for a while. Then I think of Peeta and his pursuit. He had followed me into the woods without any supplies, and now any that he might have had is ash. Granted, anyone in the district would be more than willing to help him, but I know that when he is in these stages that he is single-minded.

I feel a tug at my heart as I think this; Peeta will be alone in the woods, tracking me, with no supplies, no provisions, and no protection. Part of me orders myself to return, to turn around and go find him, but the part of me that believes in self-preservation overrules it. If anything, I need to wait a while until he calms down. And given that this is the worst rage I have seen him fly into since the war, I do not know how long that will take. It could be as short a span as several days, but with no one to convince him that I am not a threat, it could take weeks, if not months. And I know that I do not have enough supplies to last that long. So, the question remains on where I will go.

Most of the people that I know either spread out or dead. I consider my options carefully, not really certain where to go from here. I think of who I have left in my life, and the dwindling number is disconcerting. The first place to come to mind is District Seven, where Johanna still lives. She will understand better than anyone what I am going through, and she will not look down on me for my choice there, but I quickly expel her as an option. After I failed to kill President Snow, she distanced herself from me, and until that man died, there would be no reasoning with her.

I think of District Four next, with Annie and her son, but I immediately dismiss that option. Poor Annie hasn't been as stable since Finnick died, and although my mother's letters tell me that she's doing better, I don't want the sight of me to cause her any more pain. She's already had to endure so much. The thought of my mother, though, almost makes me change my mind. We have never been close, and after Prim's death, she closed herself off to me, but we are slowly building back our relationship. We are the last two left in our family, we can't fight that; we had to stick together. Of course, she is so busy now, in District Four, and I know that I will only be a burden. I'm not like Prim; I'm still useless around medicine, and I can't ask her to support me like that. And I'm not sure how comfortable we would be living with each other again. She was so fragile for the longest time after Prim's death, and her health is not as strong as it once was. I don't want to hurt her either.

A third option rises unbidden to my mind, but I hastily shove it away, looking up at the clear, blue-gray sky to shake some sense into myself. There is absolutely no way that I could travel that far on so little supplies anyway. Besides, I know that I have hurt him more than almost anyone else, and isn't the whole point of me staying away from those other districts to avoid that? Besides, there is still a part, insignificant as it is at this point, that still blames him for Prim's death. I know that he was on the ground fighting, just like I was, when that bomb torpedoed out of the sky, but if he wouldn't have taken such desperate measures to ensure our victory, then Prim would still be alive. A niggling voice of doubt in my head tells me that if he hadn't taken such desperate measures, we might still be under the influence of President Snow's tyrannical rule, but I choose to ignore it. Anyway, me going to him would be borderline cruel.

_But he probably already has someone else to occupy his time._ A snide little voice in my head makes my blood boil. Why have I not thought this before? It has been five years since he left, since he chose District Two as his home and left me with Peeta. Why wouldn't he have found someone else? The thought makes me strangely uneasy, and my face went hot, but I don't know why. Did I not say myself that he probably already had his lips all over some other girl once Peeta and I had arrived back in District Twelve? So why am I suddenly so uncomfortable with the fact that he might be with someone. Gale deserves happiness, not to wallow I his loss of me for a lifetime. Agitated now, I get to my feet and grab my bag. Maybe if I just keep heading in the direction that I have been going, I will find someplace that will take me. It's just hurt pride and regret for our lost friendship that has me feeling so attached. There's no point in troubling myself over it.

I have slowed my pace to a walk now, allowing myself to enjoy the forest more, now that I know that Peeta is not so close behind me. My endurance is greater than his; I could have stopped running long before I did, but adrenalin must have kept me going. That voice in my head again speaks, despite my greatest efforts to ignore it, and I realize that it makes sense. If Gale has found someone else in the past five years, then we are both with someone. In that case, it wouldn't hurt him if I went to him at all. And Gale wouldn't judge me; like me, he is a survivor. Like me, he will do whatever it takes to come out on top. And that is precisely why I know that I will not think twice now about going to District Two.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**** Hello, all! I'm sorry that this chapter has taken so long. Between my new Harry Potter fanfiction, ****Second Chance Lucky,**** and my co-written fanfiction with midnightwings96 and KDior, ****The Fissure of Humanity****, in addition to regular life occurrences, I've been swamped. I'll try my best to keep updating as frequently as possible. A special thanks to all who have reviewed, favorite, and followed this story! That means the world to me! Anyway, here's Chapter Four…**

I open my eyes to see the now-familiar ambers, greens, and browns coloring the world around me. I have been traveling for so many days now that my body has fallen into a pattern of habit that strangely reminds me of my time, so many years ago, in the arena of the Hunger Games. I am in survival mode now, although some of my obsessive paranoia is beginning to wear off. No longer do I get the feeling that every rustle contains someone who wishes my death, but at the same time, I am not completely at ease. It is as though my two halves, the Katniss of the District Twelve woods and the Katniss of the Hunger Games, are reconciled.

I get to my feet slowly, shaking the tiredness out of my arms and legs, running my fingers through my now disgusting hair. It must have fallen out of my braid last night. It feels greasy from the lack of baths for the past several days, but I haven't had time to stop; I've kept moving as often as possible. Now that I've become accustomed to the fact that I really am, in fact, heading for District Two, I've had so much nervous energy.

Part of me still thinks that I am completely and totally insane, going back to the one who left me after the war, the one whose heart I broke, but then I remember what had convinced me to go. He's found someone else by now, so it won't be a problem. Of course, I know that there might be some sort of resentment and bitterness lingering there, but surely we can overcome it. We were best friends for years; and real friendship never dies. I shake out my shoulders again to release the tension there, telling myself that maybe if I stop thinking about it so much everything will work out.

I bend to pick up my bow and continue through the woods, my stomach feeling the slightest bit hollow. I know that I will have to stop to hunt shortly, just so that I can keep traveling at the same pace, but I want to put some more miles between District Twelve and I first. I don't know how quickly Peeta has been traveling, but I'm not exactly anxious to find out. I feel confident that I am still far, far ahead of him, but there's really no way to judge; it's been years since we were in the arena together. I don't really know how much of a survivor he still is.

* * *

"Good job today, Mr. Hawthorne." The perky Capitol woman says in her high-pitched, nasally voice. Gale glances over at her and acknowledges the woman with a nod. She has been trying her best to get his attention for the past several days, but he is not the slightest bit interested. Thankfully, it will only be another week or so before she returns home, but it still seems like an eternity. He knows that the rest of the nation is interested in the goings on of other districts, but he doesn't understand why the Capitol needs to be so involved. After all, they were the ones responsible for the war; they don't deserve to retain their reputation as the center of culture.

At least the ridiculous and outrageous beauty trends there are fading. Oh, they still dye their hair and use as many cosmetics as they could afford, but gone are the days of mint green skin and cosmetically enhanced limbs. He gives this woman, whose name he remembered was Silver Galloway, a once over, noticing her obviously dyed blonde and powder pink hair, as well as her incredibly rouged cheeks. She looks like she'd been out drinking, rather than coordinating a newscast.

That is one thing that Gale despises about his job. Everyone in this industry seems so… complicated. He knows that rebuilding a nation after war isn't exactly simple, but at the same time, everyone he comes into contact with is either incredibly fake or incredibly bitter. He remembers a time not too long ago when he himself was so filled with hate and anger, but even his own hadn't been as extreme as everyone had thought.

Oh, he had ranted and raved about the government before, and he had been so very determined that the rebels win the war, but he had never allowed it to consume him. He had realized that death was a part of war, despite how much it tore him to pieces, and he had tried to stay strong. They had both needed it then, especially _her_. She had needed someone to be strong for her when she was on the verge of breaking, and he had tried his best to be that support. Now, his mouth twisted into a bitter grimace, that had completely backfired.

He had been her support system, trying to stay strong, and then she had decided that she needed someone softer. And then that whole situation with Prim… He feels a knife-like twist in his chest at the memory of the little girl who might as well have been his sister and then stops the thought cold. There is no reason for him to dwell on it right now. He needs to get home.

"Oh, are you leaving already?" Silver's screechy voice stops him as he begins to walk away. He turns back to her with eyebrows raised quizzically.

"The work day's over. Is there a problem with that?" He asks mildly. His words aren't said sharply, but she recoils nonetheless. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. These Capitol people still had too thin of skin, despite the fact that they had lived on the same footing as the outlying districts for the past five years.

"Not at all, Mr. Hawthorne." She snaps at him, flipping her layered hair over her shoulder and stalking away dramatically. Now, he really does roll his eyes at her theatrics. Despite how successfully his career is going, he misses the way everyone interacted, the simplicity of relationships, from before. Here, he really isn't close to anyone, although that was his own fault. But he still feels strange living in this place after what happened here during the war. Some of the natives still avoid him as a general rule, although he supposes he can't blame them for that. Word had mysteriously gotten out that he had helped Beetee come up with the idea for the bomb that had been dropped on the district, so he had endured quite a bit of abuse when he had first settled here. But, that was to be expected.

He hated what had become of his heat-of-the-moment idea, and how it had been used. Of course he had known that it would be dropped eventually, but he had expected it to be used on the Capitol, not on a district. He felt that the districts had all been more connected. Granted, District Two had been more of the Capitol's pet, but even they had been worse off than the Capitol. And there had still been at least some rebel support there, unlike in the Capitol, where most of their citizens remained blissfully unaware of goings on in the rest of Panem. But of course, that was all in the past, there is no use in dwelling on it now. With a shake of his dark-haired head to clear his thoughts, Gale begins to walk in the direction of his home on the outskirts of the district. He had never lost his love for the woods, even though being near them reminds still reminds him of _her._ They still brought him a sense of tranquility, despite the memories. And the Lord knew that he needed some sense of tranquility after the craziness of his life in past years. If only he could go back in time and change things…


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**** Good Heavens! I did NOT mean to go this long without updating, and I would like to apologize profusely. Life got a little bit crazy there for a little while. Hopefully, it won't take this long next time. I would like to thank everyone who's reviewed this fanfiction! It means a lot!**

I walk through the forest, admiring the way that the sunset plays on the russet colors of the forest. The days have begun to run together now. I cannot tell if I have been in the woods for ten days or ten thousand.

In a way, the routine is comforting, although it _is_ a bit lonely. Sometimes, I still think that I hear Peeta's thundering footsteps behind me, but my paranoia is slowly beginning to fade. Instead of imagining Peeta coming after me, I have begun to remember my time in the woods with Gale in more clarity. After he left, I forced him to the back of my mind. Aside from my conversation with a few of my neighbors, I largely made myself forget him.

In regards to Gale, bitterness and resentment replaced the comradeship and, yes, love that I had felt for him. I felt that I owed it to Peeta, especially in his weakened, Capitol-controlled state, to forget about Gale and focus expressly on him. After all, Peeta had stayed with me, Peeta had helped me through the arena, and Peeta had only become the way that he is now because of the hijacking of his mind during the war. And I knew with all my heart that he had tried to fight it over the years. Even now, I remember the depth of his love for me in the early years, how it was always strong enough to overcome the aftereffects of his hijacking in only hours. As we had gotten older, it had gotten worse, but I still remember the way that it used to be. And while I had never loved Peeta like he had once loved me, I can't help but miss the security of my former life.

As I sift through the bitterness to the past, I realize just how much I miss Gale as well. Before the Hunger Games, he had been everything to me, he and Prim. And to lose both of them in such quick succession of each other… Well, it is better not to remember sometimes. Pain unwillingly rises to the surface, but I close myself off from it. Soon enough, everything will be remedied. After all, Gale has moved on, he won't feel so distraught by the past. Why should I?

* * *

Gale bundles himself against the cold weather as he steps outside his front door. It is time for him to make his daily rounds throughout the district, to see if anything is report-worthy. He feels nosy, but he doesn't want to stay cooped up indoors any longer. He remembers vaguely that today is Sunday, the day that he would be out hunting with Katniss if he still lived in District Twelve. He briefly wonders at her life now. Does she have children? Is she happy? He stops himself at the jolt to his heart. There is no need to put himself through more pain. He made his decision to help her make hers. There is no sense in dragging up old pains. Last he heard, she ended up marrying Peeta. It solidified his conviction that he had done the right thing by leaving, but it also made him realize that she had made her choice. She had chosen Peeta because he was the better choice for her. Part of Gale wondered if she would have chosen him had he stayed, but he shakes his head at the thought. Even if she had, he never would have really had her. There always would have been some degree of withholding. That much was evident after Peeta's hijacking and "recovery." He had always felt uneasy about the apparent swiftness of the other man's recovery, and while others chalked it up to the power of love, he sneered a little bit; Gale had always felt a bit skeptical. It was impossible for someone to recover from such a traumatic thing so quickly and with seemingly such ease. It just couldn't be possible, and Gale had often thought of Katniss, wondering if he had ever—but he had to stop himself; if anything serious had happened, it would have made national news.

"Mr. Hawthorne!" He turns and forces back a grimace. Silver Galloway rushes up to meet him, a simpering smile plastered onto her fake face. Gale suppresses a groan; hadn't she taken the hint already?

"Yes, Silver?" He doesn't bother with formalities, and he doesn't bother to make his voice more polite than was absolutely necessary. Her smile falls a little, but it doesn't fade completely. Gale feels some small measure of guilt, but he ignores it.

"I just came to tell you that I'll be leaving you today. It's been a pleasure working with you, but I'm needed back in the Capitol. However, I thought it fitting to introduce you to your new partner. Mr. Hawthorne, I'd like you to meet Katli Ballentine. She'll be working with you for a good while." She gestured to a slim, surprisingly natural-looking young woman behind her. The girl is devoid of any major make-up, and she has wavy, dark red hair and vibrant green eyes that are obviously natural. Gale looks her up and down appraisingly before nodding briskly.

"Thank you, Silver. Have a nice journey." His voice is more cordial now as he looks back at the woman. She nods in a business-like way and turns to saunter back towards the justice building.

"So, you're Katli?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. She looks back at him with a shade of defiance in her face.

"So, you're the ill-tempered Gale Hawthorne?" She responds. His eyes widen in surprise at her spunk, and he nods.

"So it would seem." Gale replies, not quite sure what to say now.

"Look, Hawthorne. I'm not Silver Galloway. I won't fake niceties, and I won't be a doormat. I've heard about your situation with Katniss Everdeen, and I pity you. However, I won't allow myself to be walked all over. I came here to do work, and I'd like to be your friend. It's pretty obvious that you need one. But I won't let myself be treated like some worthless, Capitol dog. Are we clear?" She looks him pointedly in the eyes, and he almost smiles in surprise.

"We're clear." He responds mechanically, still at a loss for words.

"Good. Now, let's get to work." And he has no choice but to follow as she leads the way toward the center of the district. He finds himself admiring her, for lack of a better word, spunk, as they speak to resident after resident, just to gage the most recent of the repairs to the district. Gale is almost happy to see the repairs made to the Nut. In a way, it seems like the reparations to this landmark will almost erase the wrongs his joint invention caused, even though he knows that it won't completely disappear. That's all he wants, really, or so he thinks as he rolls his stiff neck, once again following Katli. He just wishes that he could right his wrong…

* * *

"Stupid, faithless, traitorous witch." Peeta growls, pressing the sleeve of his shirt into the light flow of blood oozing from a scratch on his leg. If that little piece of trouble would have stopped running, he wouldn't have fallen into the patch of briars. She should know that it is futile to run; he will eventually catch her. And he will make her pay for every single time she tried to kill him or betrayed his trust.

Every moment of mistrust in the arena, all those years ago, constantly swirl around his head. From the first Hunger Games, when she believed him to be working with the Careers, to the last, when he felt that she was growing too close to Finnick. No, he'd never had Katniss's loyalty. Whether it was Finnick in the arena, of all places, or her precious Gale Hawthorne everywhere else, he suspects, no, he knows that he's never had her heart. And with women, especially dangerous ones like Katniss, if he doesn't have her heart, he won't have her loyalty. She'd proven that much in her constant attempts throughout the years to kill him. He will have to kill her before she can kill him. After all, she's killed in the arena, and in the war, her sister, his family, President Coin… what is to say that he won't be next? In fact, he's surprised that she hasn't done it before. So yes, her death will be the only solution.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** **Alright, before I beg for your forgiveness, let me explain. Firstly, I've been studying for AP exams and finals for the past month, as well as battling insomnia, playing two instruments, finishing one sport, trying out for another, and keeping up with my day-to-day stuff. Secondly, in all of this chaos, I misplaced my flash drive, which had my nearly completed chapter on it, almost a month ago. So, I promise that I really didn't forget about this. After all, who could forget the epicness of Gale Hawthorne? Anyway, I'll shut up now. Here's the chapter (long overdue).**

The woods have always been a sanctum of mine. Even when the threat of the Hunger Games loomed over me, the woods were there to comfort and protect me from the storm. Now, they do that, but they also intensify my creeping paranoia and loneliness. Whereas before they were a place of security, now they just remind me that I am being hunted by the one who promised to love me forever, and they make me remember the long-ago years I spent with Gale. And with that comes the guilt of what I did to him all those years ago in District Thirteen, during the war. As much as I have tried to reassure myself that he left me after the death of my sister, I know that it was my fault for pushing him away. He was grieving too, and it was unfair of me to blame him for Prim's death.

Now, I know that I am only a few days from District Two. Only two days ago or maybe it was three, I snuck into a district as I passed. It was there that I discovered exactly how far I have come. I don't know how I'll be able to face him, to face Gale, when I can barely think his name. He would have the right to slam his door in my face. He left, but I haven't made any effort to contact him. It always upset Peeta; it made him believe that I didn't truly love him. Which I did; I love both of them. Or loved both of them. Gale was a thing of the past, nothing more. Now, I am going to him as a friend in need, the same that he came to me whenever supplies ran low in District Twelve when we were growing up. It won't be any different than that. We've both matured in the five years since the war's ended. There's no reason to let old feelings get in the way. I should have known I would think this way. Since the end of the war, I've always been very conscientious of every decision I make. I've formulated worst case scenarios for nearly everything. I'm less impulsive than I was before. Now, though, I have nowhere else to turn. I only hope that this one impulsive decision isn't a mistake.

* * *

Gale shuffles the papers on his desk in irritation. It was never his intention or desire to take a desk job; he feels like those are better left with men who can't fend for themselves physically, but unfortunately, his present job requires it. If Silver were still there, he could have convinced her to organize the documents for him, but Katli does not seem the type to be of much assistance.

The woman has adjusted well to the life in the district, considering her background of coming from the capital. Despite her assurances that she was not a Capital lapdog, Gale knows that she originated from there. He also has learned that she was an acquaintance of Cinna, who was Katniss's stylist during her time in the games. He was saddened to learn of Cinna's ultimate fate. He knows that a small part of Katniss wished and hoped that he had gotten out of the war alive.

In the short expanse of time she had been there, Gale had come to admire Katli as a person as well. Not necessarily in the romantic sense, although the thought has crossed his mind a time or two. She could be his clean slate; maybe he could pretend like his love for the girl on fire never existed. In too many ways, though, Katli is like his former friend. They share the same fire, to an extent, although Katli is much more brisk and rough than Katniss ever was. At the very least, they can be friends, but Gale knows that he will never be able to find a happy home with his colleague. Or likely anyone else for that matter.

"Haven't you finished yet?" Katli's irritated voice makes Gale jump, startled. Her green eyes are narrowed in accusation as she pushes her red hair behind her ears. He shrugs his shoulders, trying not to show his surprise at her appearance.

"Not quite." He answers with frustration evident in his voice. He shuffles the papers and looks up to see amusement glowing in her green eyes now.

"You're absolutely pitiful, Hawthorne. You can't even organize a report." She says with a shake of her head. It's been so long since Gale has exchanged banter with anyone that he can't tell whether or not she's kidding.

"I wasn't made for a desk job." He mutters under his breath before being rewarded with a howl of laughter from Katli.

"Like I said, you're absolutely pathetic." She snatches the papers out of his hands before he can protest and arranges them neatly within seconds. He stares at her, openmouthed, as she smacks the stack of papers back down on his desk. He isn't sure exactly how she did it, and he's so thunderstruck that he forgets to thank her.

"How did—" He stutters before she holds up a hand.

"Years in the business, kid. Now come on. We've got progress to check and film, and I'd like to be home before it gets too late." He scowls at her labeling him a kid; she can't be much older than he is, as she saunters out, shaking her long, red tresses as she goes. Over the past several days, the woman has shown more facets than a lump of coal. Sometimes, she is brisk and rude, and others, like today, she is helpful and light-hearted. All in all, even if he can't seem to get past Katniss as a love interest, he feels certain that he feels a friendship kindling.

* * *

Katli rolls her neck as she steps inside the door, trying to remove the day's tension. Today, it had been determined that the Nut was sturdy enough to let them tour the inside, filming as they went. She is admittedly impressed that they have come so far in constructing such a project, but she is nonetheless tired because of all the extra walking. A ringing noise coming from the direction of the kitchen makes her freeze. She is reminded again of war sirens, exploding bombs, and mass chaos before she realizes it is a telephone. Trust Silver Galloway to have one in her home, no matter however brief the time. The girl is as vain and shallow as she is fair and blonde. Katli shakes her head in exasperation as she moves to answer it. Galloway probably left something here or something to that effect.

"Yes?" She answers, realizing only afterward how harsh her voice sounds. Hoping it isn't someone important, she smooths the tension from her brow and tries to push away her exhaustion.

"Well, how's he reacted?" The perky voice of a certain blonde seems to grate against Katli's skull. She closes her eyes, trying to stay calm.

"Silver, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. It's late, and I need to get some rest." She responds with dull finality. She doesn't have time for more of Galloway's games; she just needs to sleep.

"Gale! Mr. Hawthorne? How's he reacted to the news?" Silver asks, clearly ignoring Katli's dismissal. Now her interest is piqued, though.

"What news?" Katli asks.

"Oh, you mean you haven't heard?" Silver asks with a sigh. I grit my teeth.

"Silver. What. News?" Katli enunciates each word slowly, feeling as if she's talking to some sort of hyperactive woodland creature.

"Oh, just something about the renowned Katniss Everdeen." Silver says the name casually, the way anyone else might speak of the weather. Katli feels her eyes widen, and she's sure that her jaw drops in shock.

"What about her?" Katli asks in shock, trying to maintain some sort of composure.

"Well, you know that she married Peeta Mellark after the war, right? That's why Mr. Hawthorne mopes around so much. Anyway, news just reached the Capital about them. Apparently, their house was found a few days ago, completely burned to the ground. They haven't found anything left of the occupants, though." Katli doesn't stop the phone as it slips from her fingers. Katniss Everdeen? Dead? She had never changed her surname, but her relationship with Peeta was known throughout Panem. Thanks to those ridiculous games. Oh, no. Was _she _supposed to tell Gale? She hasn't known him very long, but she knows that, for all his assurances of moving on, the man is still very much in love with her. And she knows that he will be completely devastated when he finds out. Maybe the thing to do is to wait a few days. No one else in the district knows. Besides, maybe Everdeen got out alive. After all, they hadn't found any remains, right? Katli absently replaces the phone, effectively cutting off Silver's excited chatter and walks to her bed, still at war with herself.

**Okay, so I know that this chapter was terribly short and really not that great in general. But it's the best I could do to crank it out so quickly after losing the original copy, so please don't hate me too much. Anyway, I would seriously love to hear any advice you guys might have, so please review, review, review! I read through each and every one of them, and they help me to better my writing, so please do so if you can! J**


End file.
